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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742163">those women</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulannie/pseuds/Lulannie'>Lulannie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call the Midwife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:48:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,797</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulannie/pseuds/Lulannie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't know why Lucille had been particularly magnetic the past few months, and why she shone so brightly tonight. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucille Anderson/Valerie Dyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>those women</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The hospital had phoned Nonnatus to explain that Nurse Anderson would be late to return that night, due to the emergency elevator delivery. When Sister Julienne shared the news with the nurses in the kitchen, Phyllis immediately grabbed her car keys and headed for the door, proclaiming, "After a night like that, our girl will not be </span>
  <em>
    <span>peddling</span>
  </em>
  <span> home!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Within the hour, the two nurses were pushing through Nonnatus' heavy wooden doors. Valerie was walking down to dinner as they did, and seeing the doors crack open she skipped down the last few steps to greet Lucille at the door. She took Lucille's hands in hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I hear you've been busy," she said with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, it was nothing."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ahem," Phyllis coughed. "Delivering a baby in a cage ten feet off the ground is not nothing, Nurse Anderson. Do take some pride in your achievement."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie laughed and swung an arm around Lucille's shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You hear captain's orders. I want nothing but bragging from you tonight."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, captain," said Lucille, tired but smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie couldn't stop looking at that smile over dinner, as Lucille ducked her head in response to the applause around the table, and giggled at Sister Monica Joan's enthusiastic defence of the miracle of modern inter-storey transportation. Sometimes, Lucille would turn to catch Valerie watching her. Once, she cocked her head at Valerie, puzzled. Valerie only shrugged with a smile. She didn't know why Lucille had been particularly magnetic the past few months, and why she shone so brightly tonight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie had felt it one night in the outer Hebrides when the bitter cold had driven them to huddle together under a pile of blankets, their sides flush and their cheeks almost touching as they sipped their steaming tea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would feel it when it was just the two of them in the kitchen together, sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night, when Lucille would say, “Valerie, can you pass the sugar?” And Valerie would pass her the sugar and say, “Careful on the sweetness; Sister Monica Joan monitors that pot.” And Lucille would say, “Then you must promise not to rat me out.” And Valerie would tap her chin and hum and say, “For the right price, maybe.” And Lucille would laugh and Valerie would smile like she’d won the lottery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Valerie would feel butterflies in her stomach seeing Lucille at work, so capable and so kind. She'd call the mother "precious" and smile reassuringly while navigating an umbilical cord from around baby's neck. She would hand baby over to the mother with such tenderness, then step back, close her eyes, lift her chin and smile. Then she was back in the world, tidying away and making tea and accepting thanks with a grace that Valerie could never replicate. She looked like an angel in her whites.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Lucille would call Valerie "precious" too. It caught Valerie off-guard at first. She wasn't used to being seen as precious. She wasn't delicate, or graceful. When she was a teenager her cousins would call her "elbows". When she was in the army there was no room for tenderness. But then Valerie would return to Nonnatus after a difficult birth, and Lucille would be manning the phone and would take Valerie's bag and cape as she came past and say kind things and call her "precious".</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She liked it when Lucille called her by name, too. When it would be the three of them in Trixie and Valerie's room, laughing and eating sweets gifted them from a grateful mother. Trixie would say something suggestive and take a smug drag of her cigarette, and Valerie would double down on the joke, causing Lucille to whack her side gently and chide, "Valerie!" She loved the way Lucille said her name, like every syllable had equal importance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie would feel it then - that deep tug of affection for her friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She loved every resident of Nonnatus greatly. But lately, her love for Lucille had changed. Lucille seemed to occupy a different space in Valerie's heart - in her head, too. Some days every idle moment of Valerie's mind was occupied by thoughts of Lucille. It was no longer the promise of a hot cup of tea and a comfortable armchair that excited Valerie to finish her day's work, but the prospect of getting to see Lucille, to make her smile. If Valerie heard a funny story from the Browns or the Joneses she would file it away to tell Lucille later. Would she laugh? Would she playfully tell Valerie off for gossiping? She couldn't wait to find out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sister Julienne called to Valerie across the dinner table to ask her how Mrs O'Donnell was coming along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Wonderfully, Sister. Though she's so excited I practically have to hold her down to take her blood pressure."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I wish Mrs Naylor were so enthusiastic," said Trixie. "This one's her seventh, and she's assigned the poor thing a spot on the family chore rota already."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The table laughed. Lucille leaned forward to catch Valerie's eye. They had delivered Mrs Naylor's sixth child together, almost two years ago, so they were both familiar with the woman's no-nonsense attitude. The look made Valerie's stomach flutter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn't place the way Lucille made her feel, or rather how she felt about Lucille. She might have thought that Lucille was simply her best friend, but Valerie had had best friends before. There was a time at school, once her cheekiness prevailed over her shyness, when girls would vie to be her best friend. She'd had plenty of hair-braiding, secret-sharing best friendships, but none that felt like this. Now that she considered it, Valerie realised that what she felt for Lucille was more like how she'd felt for Rory Moynihan when she was fifteen, or that dark-haired dock worker who would come into the pub every Friday, and only on Friday. But that was ridiculous. Valerie had fancied those boys. She hardly fancied Lucille. Plus, she loved Lucille much more than she'd loved a spotty teenager or a dusty, raucous stranger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sister Frances brought out a trifle from the kitchen, greeted by cheers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucille wasn't like a boy at all. She was soft. Serene. Whip-smart and subtle. Valerie wondered if everyone felt this way about Lucille. Perhaps she was just one of those people, like Trixie, who made everyone feel special. Like that night when the chain on Valerie's bicycle broke, and Lucille walked with her the whole way home. When Valerie switched her bicycle around to her right side so she could walk beside Lucille. When they were under the bridge, approaching Nonnatus, and Lucille had stopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You alright?" Valerie had asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm alright," said Lucille. "I just want to savour the air. The world feels at peace."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucille had her eyes closed, smiling gently. Looking at her, Valerie didn't feel at peace. She felt suddenly thrumming with energy. Her body wanted to move. She needed to do something. The two of them there, under the arch in the dark, protected by their bicycles. Lucille's eyes opened and squinted a smile at Valerie. Valerie's head was empty. Lucille stood there, looking at Valerie like she was waiting for something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie's body wanted to hold Lucille. Like a man might. Kiss her like a man might.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie dropped the trifle bowl as Sister Frances handed it to her. The bowl hit the table but didn't smash, only a little cream and fruit splashing onto Valerie's blouse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh! I'm so sorry," squeaked Sister Frances, already collecting her napkin to offer Valerie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, no. It's fine," said Valerie, absently. "It's my fault. Sorry. I'll be right back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie fled the table for the upstairs bathroom. She locked the door and backed up against the sink, one hand over her mouth, not daring to look herself in the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was like a man. No, not a man. Like one of those women. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn't have anything against them. She'd known one or two in the army. But she couldn't be one of them. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> be one of them. Valerie had been with men. She had enjoyed it. She still enjoyed it. Looking at those handsome actors in the pictures, heart beating doubly hard when they kissed the girl and the credits rolled. Lucille was a blip. The result of living in a convent, spending all her time, both work and leisure, with women. Wouldn't the brain be forced to rewire itself to fit the circumstances? Like those boys in the navy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the flutter she felt when she thought of Lucille wasn't in her brain. That flutter which, in the past few minutes, had become an ache as it's impossibility came to light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie loved Lucille. She wanted to hold her hand when they ate breakfast together in the kitchen. Kiss her when the credits rolled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a knock at the bathroom door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Everything okay, sweetie?" Trixie asked, loud enough for Valerie to hear, but quiet enough that those dining below could not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll be out in a minute."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie's voice trembled as she said it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Valerie."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stifled a sob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Can I come in?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie shuffled to the door and pulled back the lock. The door opened gently and Trixie slipped inside. She took in Valerie's red eyes, one hand half-hiding her face and the other wrapped protectively around herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, angel."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trixie took Valerie in her arms, not caring for the food still on Valerie's shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What's wrong?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie shook her head over Trixie's shoulder. Nothing was wrong. The world was wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't..." she choked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drew back from the hug. She wiped her eyes briskly and turned to blink hard into the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I need to clean myself up. Tell them I'll be down in a moment."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll tell them that you've passed out asleep on your bed. And to save a portion of trifle in the fridge."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking at Trixie's kind, determined face, Valerie could have burst into tears. She frowned to keep the tears at bay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you," she said, hoping Trixie understood just how much she was appreciated. "I'm okay. I promise I am."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I never doubted it. Though it's never a problem if you aren't."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie smiled. Trixie winked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll see you later," she said as she slipped back out the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valerie left the shirt to soak in the sink and curled up into her bed. More than ever before, her mind was full of Lucille. Moment after moment replayed in her mind. A halo of light around Lucille, capturing her in fine detail. Looks, thoughts, feelings - re-contextualised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the comfort of her bed, Valerie could temporarily ignore the harsh reality of her revelation, and focus instead on the warmth in her chest, one she could now name.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ruddy trifle. thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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